Chapter Fourteen
When Pepper entered the dog park the next morning, the place went so quiet she could hear a Milk-Bone drop.
“What’s up?” She brushed a hand over her face, a quick check for renegade Pop-Tart frosting. “Are my pants on inside out?”
“Suppose we should count ourselves grateful that you’ve elected to wear some,” Doc Valentine muttered without preamble, frowning over the top of theEverland Examiner. Today he and Fluffy—er, Marie Claire—were coordinating butterscotch-colored bowties and ribbons. The effect made his skin look sallow and gave Pepper no small pleasure.
Her petty was showing.
Even still, her shoulders slumped like a marionette whose strings were unceremoniously cut. Hard to be snarky when every single person here must know that she’d spent yesterday afternoon lurking under the Kissing Bridge like a half-naked troll. Two ways to play this: act dumb or do a mea culpa. This crowd didn’t seem the type to fall for an “aw shucks” routine.
Mea culpa it was then.
Loins, prepare to be girded.
She unclipped Wolfgang’s leash. He dove for her leg, but she cut him with a sharp “Sit,” coupled with a tough look that promisedOn your butt or you’ll be coated in batter and deep fried.
He dropped to his haunches and she resisted the urge to fist pump.Cesar Millan, eat your heart out.
“Now what’s this about skinny-dipping?” The General clutched his heart with a good-natured wink. “Got to say, girl, I didn’t think you had it in you.”
“Rumor has it that your boy was involved,” said an older woman in tailored slacks, a patterned blazer, and kitten heels. She gave Doc a prudish frown while stroking the haughty Scotch terrier on her lap.
People do look like their pets.
Doc sat back against the bench, resting his interlaced fingers on his small paunch. “I can assure you, Lucille, that whatever undesirables my son fraternizes with is of no consequence to me.” His pompously adenoidal tone made it clear that not only did he harbor an opinion, but it was a bad one.
Undesirables?
Oh, for the love of Gosling.
She hadn’t danced naked around a bonfire on the solstice; she just hadn’t wanted to lose the physical reminder of happy memories. But no point getting sentimental about cupcake hats with that sourpuss.
What was it like for Rhett to grow up in the shadow of this grim-faced guy? Her own dad thought everything she and Tuesday did was the best, most amazing thing ever. Finger painting. Playing right field on the second-string softball team. Moving to New York for university. Or her sister’s off-off-off-Broadway roles. His pride was as reliable as Target’s ability to make her drop a hundred bucks when all she meant to buy was conditioner.
A rapid movement snapped her out of navel gazing.
Shitake mushrooms.
Wolfgang mounted the butterscotch-bowed Fluffy by the drinking fountain. His tiny hips thrust faster than a seventies porn star.
Doc followed the direction of her horrified gaze and made a strangled sound. “This isn’t the grand seraglio of the Ottoman sultans, Miss Knight. Everland, Georgia, is home to God-fearing folk. Get your hound off my Marie Claire.”
“He’s not my dog. He’s my customer.” That sounded worse. “Wolfgang.” She clapped her hands. Her authoritative voice lost in the tug-of-war with his libido. “Stop. Stop that right now. Wolfgang, I said get off. Down. Go on.” Eventually, he dismounted, and tucked his small pointy tail as if to saythanks for killing my mojo.
“Guess what?” the General said as the Chihuahua proceeded to clean himself with excruciating thoroughness.
“I despise guessing games,” Doc boomed over the noisy slurps. He folded the paper and rapped the Scrabble box. “Are we going to play, or should I gather my things and return home?”
“Can we let her in?” The General nodded at Pepper. “Jim’s doing stocktake at the store all morning, and Norma’s out of commission while she recovers.”
Lucille and Doc exchanged loaded glances.
“No one replaces Norma,” Doc answered at last.
“That’s okay,” Pepper said hastily, whipping out her phone. Technology, saving victims of casual ostracism in the twenty-first century. “You go on and have fun with your board game.”
“A game? Is that what you said? Scrabble isn’t a game.” The General wheezed, taking a seat next to Doc at the picnic table. “Here in Everland it’s a way of life. Think of playing as your initiation into local culture.”
